make memories with me
by The Next-Gen Fanatics
Summary: In the end there's only us. - cousincest drabbles - #8: Roxanne/Louis
1. FredDominique

**Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to any of the Next-Gen Fanatics.**

**This will be a drabble collection from the Drabble Tag on our forum, consisting of all our cousincest stories =]**

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><p><strong>prompt:<strong> library

**pairing: **fred/dominique

**writer: **robb-starks

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><p>He finds them snogging in the library. And, you know, it's not that weird - a lot of people snog in the library, it's a good place to come because you can get yourselves lost amongst the maze of books and it is very unlikely that anybody will find you.<p>

But he finds them, and at first all he sees is a tall boy with brown hair ghosting kisses up the side of some girl's neck, while the girl giggles and tries to push him away, pretending flirtatiously. Then suddenly her eyes snap open, and his meet hers reluctantly, brown into thundercloud-grey, and her grip on Sebastian's jumper tightens and her cheeks flush and she knows she's got the same picture running through her head, of her and another boy (with brownbrown eyes and curly hair and, um, a passing familial resemblance), tumbling backwards onto his bed, her clothes somewhere on the floor and his not much closer, their lips attacking each ferociously and desperately because that was it, that was their one chance, wrapped up in a frenzied storm of kisses and endearments and fierce, terrible silence.

_(_"We're _cousins_, Dominique."_)_

_(_"It's not even illegal here."_)_

Dominique mouths '_I'm sorry_' over Sebastian's shoulder.

Fred just turns and walks away.

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	2. LouisLucy

**prompt:** garden of eden

**pairing: **LouisLucy

**writer:** WIZARDOLOGY

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><p>"Louis- do you believe that God created the first man and woman?" Lucy pauses. "Adam and Eve, I mean?" She lies her head down on his lap, golden hair draping over his legs as he ponders for a moment.<p>

"Well- I s'pose I do. Why?"

Cautiously, she murmurs, "So you believe in the garden of Eden, and everything? The fruit's forbidden and Eve eats it anyway? All that stuff?"

He nods, looking down at her and she sighs.

"_I'm _like forbidden fruit, Lou." She mutters, light pink blooming on her cheeks and she looks up at him with the clearest blue eyes he's _ever_ seen.

He brushes a strand of her hair aside and, leaning down, presses a chaste kiss to her lips. He whispers gently in her ear.

"I know, Luce. I know."

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	3. FredMolly

**pairing: **fred/molly

**prompt: **pretty

**author: **robb-starks

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><p>She's a prettypretty haze of bouncing red curls and sparkling hazel eyes, always wearing a faint aura of mischief and a cheeky smile. She's got the skill of looking innocent down to a fine art, and sometimes he hates it and sometimes he ador- um, thinks it's pretty cool, y'know.<p>

She bounds up to him one lunchtime by the lake, her hair sort of bound back with what looks like one of her older sister Lucy's Quidditch bandanas, curls escaping all over the place and framing her face in a shower of red ringlets.

"If James asks," she tells him, eyes dancing with laughter, pushing a strand of hair irritably behind her ear, the words spilling out of her in a near-incomprehensible rush, "I've been with you this whole time."

Fred is wiser to her schemes than to ask, and so he just nods and grins because in the sunlight she's all different shades of pretty, with the freckles on the bridge of her nose all scrunched up and her whole being screaming mischief.

"Freddie," she complains, tugging at his sleeve, and he just folds his arms and raises an eyebrow down at her.

"Isn't it time you started acting your age?" he inquires, and there's a hint in his voice that lets her know he's teasing. She frowns, brows flashing quickly down over glinting eyes, and she punches him once, hard, in the arm.

"I'm fifteen, I can act however I bloody want! And," she continues, suddenly flopping down to sit next to him, "I'm only a year younger than you. So you should start acting your age before I do."

Fred settles down next to her, a cousinly (ahem) arm around her shoulders, and together they watch the sun set over the Black Lake and bicker about important (pointless) things.

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	4. LucyJames

**pairing: **james/lucy  
><strong>prompt: <strong>supernova  
><strong>author: <strong>WIZARDOLOGY

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><p>She dreams of Narnian skies and glittering stars that shine like supernovas, and Edmund, and he wonders, is that all she cares about? Because Lucy's his very favourite cousin, and um, um, um, doesn't she care about him too?<p>

When they were little, they used to lie under the night sky in the dewy grass and just...talk, y'know? And he doesn't know where that all went, because suddenly she's dreaming of Edmund Pevensie and he's left alone in this big, big, big world and his only comfort is gone.

He wishes she'd get her head back ('cause he misses her and loves her and can't bear to see her hurt) from the clouds so she can see that he's dark-haired and maybe not dark-eyed, but he's got eyes the color of the Narnian sky and can't that be enough to satisfy her? He's James and she's Lucy - JamesandLucy fits much more than EdmundandLucy - so maybe that's why he falls so easily for Lucy (the Queen) because the two are so alike and sometimes, he's just gotta settle for second best, doesn't he?

(And then his cousin dies and goes off with Edmund and- he's alone.)

(Bye bye, supernovas.)

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	5. LilyHugo

**pairing: **lily/hugo**  
>prompt: <strong>exploring  
><strong>writer: <strong>13dramaqueen13

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><p>"Hideous," Lucy says as her cousin absently trails a finger along her collarbone. A shiver runs up her spine; Victoire is so close she can see the darker blue outline of her ice coloured eyes. Her hand winds around her cousin's slender wrist, pulling her closer, closer. They are touching. They are electricity. "I am hideous."<p>

Victoire says nothing. Instead, she winds a strand of Lucy's brown hair around her pinky finger before letting it go, allowing it to spring back into its natural loose curl. Lucy looks up at the taller girl whose beauty is terrifying even from this angle and thinks, _hideous._

Then, "No," Victoire counteracts softly, her voice no more than a whisper. "You are beautiful."

Lucy almost thinks she could believe it.

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	6. AlbusLucy

pairing: AlbusLucy

prompt: Little Red Riding Hood

author: with the monsters

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><p>She wears this little red coat that's more of a cape, and it sets off the flush of her cheeks and the gold of her hair to perfection, and in the freezing air of the meadow she's kind of like a fairytale, a veritable Little Red Riding Hood.<p>

"Aren't you cold?" she inquires as he sits next to her in his jeans and leather jacket, trying to pretend that he's not shivering because if there's one thing you don't do when you're with your Weasley cousins it's admit weakness. They're watching the others play Quidditch, and he's sitting out because he's got a bad leg and she's sitting out because she hates the sport.

"Nah, not really," he replies nonchalantly, and she makes a tutting noise worthy of their grandmother and takes his frozen hands in between her mittened ones, pulling them into her lap and rubbing them gently to keep them warm as she keeps her eyes fixed on the Quidditch overhead, expression full of concentrating as the Quaffle passes so rapidly between James and Dominique that it's almost a blur.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, Al liking the feel of the soft wool of her coat and the suede of her mittens against his hands, and he lets his head fall back against the tree they're leaning against as hers drops onto his shoulder. He breathes in the honey-scent of her hair and lets it out slowly, trying not to think of the way that Lorcan Scamander looks at her, but rather of the way her face looks when she's writhing beneath him, divested of clothes entirely, his lips at her neck and his hands on her bare skin, in those snatched periods of frantic passion and murmured endearments when they pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist - there's just them, his bed and her voice, stark and impossible and desperate.

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	7. JamesDominique

**pairing:** JamesDominique

**prompt:** music to override the silence

**author:** PrincessPearl

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><p>He's playing his guitar again, and it might just be the prettiest sound she's ever heard.<p>

"Hey, there, Jamie," Dominique teases, plopping down next to him as he strums away on his guitar under the shade of a chestnut tree. "What song is that?"

James glances up, blue eyes dancing with his usual good cheer. "I have no idea, Nika," he replies, flashing her a grin that makes her melt in _all_ the wrong ways. "I'm just playing."

"Oh, good," she says cheerfully. "Because that's the best kind of music."

He shoots her a curious glance but stays silent for a moment in favor of strumming some more, his sweet, melodic notes bubbling around them, lingering in the winds, in her ears, in her heart. The music pours from his fingers, from the red-and-gold pick in his hands, from every inch of his body, and it's _glorious_.

"What kind of music would that be, Nika?" he asks her lightly when the song ends.

Dominique smiles, a little wistfully. "Music to override the silence," she answers, keeping her voice just as light as his and trying not to jump when he reaches over and squeezes her hand. "That's the best kind."

"Couldn't agree more," grins James, his fingers twining with hers for the briefest moment, the smallest slice of heaven, and then his warmth is gone and she's left feeling cold because this - _them_ - it could never happen, and they both know it.

So he plays his guitar and she listens, and his music - the best kind - overrides their comfortable silence, and, yeah, this song is never going to end _happily-ever-after_, is it?

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	8. RoxanneLouis

**pairing:** RoxanneLouis  
><strong>prompt:<strong> guttural  
><strong>writer:<strong> with the monsters

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><p>He likes the way they contrast, he guesses. Because when they're lying together on his bed and she's got one hand wrapped in his and they're touching down every length of their bodies, skin sliding irresistibly against skin, he's so <em>fair<em> - all white skin and blonde hair and blueblue eyes - and she's so _dark_ - all dark skin and black hair and amber eyes - and when he thinks about it (not often) he thinks that something that looks so beautiful really shouldn't be so frowned upon.

"Rox," he says, and in the dimness of the room his voice is low and gutteral and gentle around the shape of her name, "we kind of go together well, yeah?"

She looks up at him and smiles lazily, teeth very white against the darkness of her face, and she takes her free hand and runs it down the length of his chest.

"Yeah. We kind of do."

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